


Telsu

by s0mmerspr0ssen



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, T'hy'la, Tarsus IV, Vulcan, Vulcan-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0mmerspr0ssen/pseuds/s0mmerspr0ssen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout his childhood, Spock suffers from 'emotional seizures'. It takes his healers and parents years to understand their cause. It takes Spock even longer to find it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: This is a **work in progress** . I cannot promise a regular updating schedule.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story. Thanks to the amazing [kholly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kholly) for offering to beta my story and working out the kinks.
> 
> My sources for Vulcan, background information, etc. are:  
> * [The Memory Alpha Star Trek Wiki](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com)  
> * [The Starbase 10 Vulcan Dictionary](http://www.starbase-10.de/vld)  
> * [Korsaya](http://korsaya.org)
> 
> Although the main set-up of the universe is that pictured in AOS, it does work as a form of AU.

The stardate is 2233.04 when Spock experiences the first of what his healers will later describe as emotional seizures.

Spock is not quite 3 standard years of age. Like all healthy Vulcan infants of this age, he has a basic understanding of communication, using proper vocabulary and grammar. He trains his memory and other elementary skills daily. Soon, he will have reached a level of knowledge that will allow him to start traditional schooling outside of his home.

Controlling his emotions, especially occasional bursts of anger, is as of yet difficult for him. But it is for all children of Vulcan descent. They are not born in control; it is something to be strived for and perfected during one’s entire life. To do so, one must follow the teachings of the revered logician Surak.

This, at least, is how his father Sarek has explained it.

The seizure, however, goes far beyond what any Vulcan child usually displays during development.

Spock is focusing on one of his preferred toys. Made of steel, it is a set of several 2D-shapes connected with each other by certain mechanisms and patterns. The goal is to understand the set-up, separate all shapes, then reconnect them to once more create their original form. Spock is very close to solving it – after which he will aim to solve a more difficult version of the same design, as his father suggested.

In the next moment, he finds himself dropping the toy on the floor. A headache, harsh and pulsing, has overcome him. Spock loses his ability to breath calmly. His hands, seemingly on their own, reach up to cover his eyes.

His mother, having watched over him while attending to something on her PADD, immediately cries out.

“Spock?” he hears her say, her voice unusually loud. “What is happening, are you in pain?”

Spock finds himself unable to reply to his mother. In fact, he now has difficulties understanding her. A loud ringing is present in his ears and a heat not unlike that of the Vulcan suns seems to have taken over his body.

“Aah!” is all Spock can communicate, then he is toppling over and finds himself on the floor next to his toy.

He will later realize that his mother’s shouting is no longer directed at him, but at his father. He will understand that the hands prying at his eyes are Sarek’s and that his father aims to initiate a mind meld – and repeatedly fails to do so.

But in this moment of unknown pain and helplessness, he has no control over his mind, much less his body.

After the pain, the heat, and the ringing finally subside, there follows a feeling of utmost despair. Sadness, fear and confusion in a strength that he has never felt before, take over his body.

Spock, surrounded by both his parents, starts to cry. Not just a few stray tears as many Vulcan children might shed in a moment of weakness, but multiple tears mixed with sobs and the flow of nasal mucus.

He is unable to stop for what must be over 2 standard hours.

When the intense emotions finally subside, Spock becomes aware that he is already with healers at Shi’Khar Medical Facility. Next to his familiar pediatrician, additional experts have entered the examination room and are observing him. He is sitting on a biobed. Data he does not comprehend is shown on four different screens.

His parents are also present, his mother showing much of the emotion Spock knows she feels even as an adult but aims to restrain while she resides on Vulcan.

Spock is acutely aware that his own face is covered in mucus and drying tears. He takes a few deep breaths, aiming to once more take control of his mind and body like his father has taught him. When he finally succeeds, he quietly asks: “May I use the hygienic facilities to clean my face?”

His voice sounds unlike himself. It is rough and weaker than before.

One of the healers silently gestures towards a door. Before Spock can slide off the biobed, his mother steps forward and lifts him off. He walks with her towards the facilities. Inside, his mother silently helps him direct the sonic jet of the hygienic unit towards his face, adjusting the strength accordingly.

Spock diligently cleans his face and adjusts his hair.

Nothing is said by anyone until Spock returns and his mother once more places him on the examination bed.

What follows are a variety of tests, questions, and stares so intense Spock can only assume that there is some concealed meaning.

Ultimately, as far he has understood, there is not a satisfying explanation for what has happened to him.

“There is no known disease on Vulcan that causes this kind of behavior,” one of the healers informs Spock’s parents. Nobody is speaking to Spock directly, but he is avidly listening to the adults present. Acute observation, he has been taught, is a fundamental part of the learning process. “It is unlike anything recorded in our medical databases. The symptoms do not correspond with any known illness.  Therefore, we can give no definite diagnosis. Some of the symptoms do resemble a form of seizure, but their manifestation is mainly… emotional.”

Spock recognizes that the last word is spoken with special emphasis, but is unsure of an interpretation of this.

“Emotional,” his father repeats. “Can you elaborate on that, _hassu_?”

“There was abnormal cerebral activity present in the scan initially made upon your son’s admission. Similar patterns have been seen with patients suffering of convulsive fits. This is usually a sign of a neurological illness affecting the muscles and causing uncontrollable contractions. Your son, however, was primarily emotionally imbalanced whereas any physical symptoms were secondary.”

“I understand,” his father answers.

“I suggest,” the healer continues, “seeking out a Human physician.”

Spock observes his father’s straight posture with interest, how it differs from his mother’s restless movements of the hands and feet.

“Spock is primarily Vulcan,” is Sarek’s response. “While Human genetic material is present, the Vulcan genome by far outweighs his Human heritage. His development so far has verified this.”

“I concur. However, extreme emotional anomalies are more common in Humans than in Vulcans. Even a small genetic variance based on his Human heritage could be the elicitor of this kind of seizure.”

“Something like this is not normal among Humans, either!”

It is the first time Spock’s mother has spoken up during this exchange. All eyes focus on her as she elaborates her point. While her voice is calm, her face has become slightly flushed. Spock knows this to be another sign of feeling.

“I agree that strong emotional displays are something Human rather than Vulcan,” his mother continues. “However, Spock was not merely crying because he was upset over something. This… seizure, as you describe it, happened spontaneously. Nothing that happened before could have reasonably triggered this volatile response. He simply started to cry.”

“I understand that emotion and reason are essentially mutually exclusive,” the healer replies.

“Emotions always have a cause,” Spock’s mother emphasizes calmly. “It might not be a logical cause, but the source can usually be traced. Sadness is caused by loss, fear by danger. Spock’s outburst had no such causes, as far as I could observe.”

There is a moment of silence where the points made are considered.

“I cannot offer a satisfying explanation,” the healer finally concludes. “I can only repeat my advice to you: Seek out a Human specialist. We cannot explain what has transpired within Vulcan norms. It is logical to consider any additional form of treatment available.”

Spock’s mother adds nothing further to the entire exchange. Her face, Spock has noticed, once more only shows calm and control.

Eventually, they return to their home in the suburban area of Shi’Khar. Spock focuses once more on his toy and the day continues as it would have.

The only exception to their routine is the intense conversation between his parents that Spock cannot quite follow from the parlor floor.

Spock is not taken to a Human physician.

~*~*~

No additional seizure presents itself in the following 13 months. After reaching the required standards of linguistic ability, motoric skills and general physical maturity, Spock now attends the communal schooling facilities of Shi’Khar.

His father has informed him that his aptitude tests were above average and that the admission tests imply that Spock’s talents are particularly suited for a career in the higher sciences. The scores, he explained, align with those of individuals who would later attend the more demanding courses at the Vulcan Science Academy, the most-esteemed Higher Education facility on Vulcan.

Spock has accepted this information with the appropriate decorum and agreed with his father that a special emphasis on courses preparing for this particular path would be the most productive and thus most logical approach to his schooling.

After several weeks of communal schooling, Spock becomes aware of two points that have not previously been of importance while being homeschooled. For one, his Human mother seems to be a point of interest for almost any Vulcan he encounters, be it a teacher or fellow student. Secondly, the fact that Spock’s mother is of Terran rather than Vulcan descent seems to imply that Spock is lacking. What exactly this lack entails has not yet become clear.

Given his continuously over-average testing scores as well as his fine record of conduct, Spock has come to the conclusion that the repeated comments on his mixed heritage have no real base in logic. It is most puzzling that Vulcans, adults in particular, would show such unbecoming behavior.

It is, he must admit to himself in the privacy of his mind, also a cause of emotional responses.

Mainly, the comments are a cause for anger. With the help of meditation, as taught to him by his father, he can control these feelings adequately so far.

In this regard, he also profits from the fact that the majority of time spent at school is filled with private sessions in his personal learning pod. Communal schooling means that weaker students might fall behind, whereas advanced students cannot further their education properly. Thus Spock and other students of the same age only rarely follow a communal lesson collectively. It is most often before or after these lessons that his peers continue to remark upon his parentage.

In spite of this, 13 months pass with Spock furthering his education and broadening his knowledge in a variety of fields.

Then, in the midst of a test on advanced algebra taking place in his pod, the burning headache he has felt before returns full-force.

Like before, he immediately falls to the floor, his hands reaching for his head in an attempt to ease physically what cannot be controlled with the mind. Like before, he fails.

His incoherent shouts must alert his teachers and fellow students to his pain, but already his awareness of his surroundings starts to fade. Instead, he is slowly filled with intense emotion.

Again, fear and sadness stand out from the turmoil he encounters. His body shakes with the intensity, his mind filled with a need to shout out his feelings, to scream and cry as loudly as he can.

The seizure does not last as long as his first. Still, it takes nearly 1 standard hour for him to become lucid and, ultimately, controlled.

Once more, he finds himself at Shi’Khar Medical Facility, both of his parents present in the room. This time, Spock can rightly interpret the dismissive and stern glances from the healers. He is by now familiar enough with the looks and nuances of vocal emphasis to realize that they disapprove of him, as well as his mother.

His father, however, does not seem to cause any disrespectful behavior or stares. Spock has come to understand that Sarek is very well-esteemed among their people, as are other individuals of their family line. As ambassador to Earth, currently residing on Vulcan for the sake of Spock’s education, Sarek is well-known and highly regarded.

“We can offer no further explanation,” the healers explain. “Have you sought out the help of a Human physician?”

“No adequate expert in this field is known to us,” Spock’s father replies.

Spock has not been aware such an expert had been sought by his parents. Rather, his first seizure was not spoken of again.

“We will assist you in this, if you so wish, _kevet-dutar_.”

Sarek inclines his head to the healer’s proposal. Spock’s mother again does not partake much in the following conversation.

At sunset, after the evening meal, Spock’s mother enters his personal room. Spock saves his progress on the virtual game of chess he has been playing on his personal computer terminal, and turns his attention to his mother.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened today,” she proposes.

“With ‘what happened’, mother, I assume you refer to the return of what the healer has described as an emotional seizure?” It must be the Human way to use more imprecise expressions, although his mother generally is a more than satisfying conversational partner.

“Indeed. I wanted to know if there was anything you had to say. That is, anything not discussed with the healers. Maybe something that you thought was more appropriate for private surroundings.”

Spock takes a moment to consider this.

“I am interested in whether you and Father will indeed seek out the services of a Human expert,” he eventually states.

Spock’s mother does not reply at once. Clearly, she, too, has been taught that any statement in a conversation should be reflected upon prior to being spoken.

“Is that something you think you would benefit from?” she asks in return.

“I have no understanding of what a Human healer would do differently,” Spock admits. “I can therefore not say if it would be beneficial.”

“Of course.” His mother pauses again. “I realize you have little medical knowledge, but you are the one experiencing these… seizures, for the lack of a proper description. May I ask, Spock: What do you think causes these outbursts? Do you have any theory at all?”

“I do not. Both experiences were sudden and the emotions uncontainable. Yet, I could not detect a common denominator surrounding the occurrences that could arguably be seen as the cause.” He hesitates, then finds himself confiding with her his inner turmoil: “I must admit, Mother, that I am unsettled by them.”

“That’s understandable,” she returns. Her lips form a smile; a show of emotion she has often directed at him in the privacy of their home. While he does not return it, he can appreciate the sentiment. She means well, and her cultural background is to be respected. “I’m worried about you. I wish we could find something to help you.”

“Do you agree with the healers’ assessment that these episodes of emotional imbalance might be caused by my Human heritage?”

There is something in his mother’s face that Spock only sees very rarely. He recognizes it nonetheless: Hurt.

“I’m not a healer,” she replies. “But I’d like to believe that your Human heritage is an asset to you, not a disadvantage.”

“Vulcan is part of the United Federation of Planets, an interstellar union comprised of currently 166 members. The aim and continuing challenge of the Federation is to unite cultures and beings that differ very greatly from each other. It is reasonable to assume that a child born of two allied species would benefit from this unique perspective and ultimately further the understanding between cultures.”

“I can only agree, Spock.”

“It has also benefitted my personal education,” Spock elaborates. “I have been raised bilingually. This has resulted in me being considerably more advanced at Terran Standard, and I continue to excel in this field compared to my peers.”

Again, his mother smiles. There are days when she is less guarded, more Human. Today is clearly one of them. “Indeed.”

“Yet,” Spock continues, “I have found that my peers as well as my teachers do not always share this perspective on my half-Human parentage.”

His mother’s smile becomes much smaller. “Even Vulcans can be mistaken,” she replies.

“We are not infallible,” Spock agrees.

His mother’s nod of agreement is short and swift. “It’s late,” she says, schooling her features. “Sleep well, Spock.”

“Rest well, Mother,” Spock replies and looks after her. He cannot help but think that their conversation has left her troubled.

~*~*~

The seizures return regularly, but neither Spock nor his parents can find a pattern or an explanation. The fits happen in varying situations, publically or in private, and once have occurred even during meditation. Their repeated occurrence is troubling.

In spite of them, Spock continues his education. His test scores remain above-average and his parents approve of his academic excellence.

His fellow students, however, take his seizures as an additional point of weakness that must regularly be mentioned and discussed. Spock therefore applies himself even more to his studies, aiming to finish his lessons early and depart from the schooling grounds before any of the others leave their pods. To expose oneself to an unpleasant confrontation when it can be avoided would be illogical.

According to what Spock can observe, he is not lacking. His intellectual capacities surpass those of many Vulcans who are born of two Vulcan parents. He strives to understand and implement Surak’s teachings daily. Unless a seizure occurs, he improves his control in regards to his emotions. His free time, he dedicates to beneficial activities like the game of 3D-chess. He aims to preserve Vulcan culture by mastering the _ka'athyra_ , commonly known as the Vulcan lyre.

The evidence is clear that Spock has no intellectual disadvantage due to his mixed heritage. In addition, he has fully dedicated himself to the Vulcan way. Logic dictates that this fact be accepted.

It is not.

Perhaps his seizures are of more concern to them than Spock has assumed. His healers have labeled them as something based on his Human heritage, no matter how insignificant its presence in Spock’s genes or cultural identity. Spock knows he cannot control the fits, but this might not be known to his peers and instructors.

Spock does not know what to expect when his parents tell him that a Human physician will arrive for a consultation at Shi’Khar shortly before he reaches the age of 7. His seizures have not stopped, but their intensity has declined in terms of length. Spock’s only valid explanation for this decrease would be that his maturing mind and body have become accustomed to the sudden assaults and can now induce a speedier recovery.

Still, he is open to the idea of a Human physician. The Vulcan healers have so far denied any treatment beyond advising Spock’s father to further instruct Spock in the Vulcan ways of meditation and control. If these seizures are indeed somehow linked to his mother’s genes, a Human expert is more likely to make a fitting diagnosis.

In addition, becoming 7 years of age is considered an important step in the development of a Vulcan child. This, Spock has been taught, is a time where betrothals are arranged between families. He understands that an explanation or possible treatment for his predicament would lessen any objections a potential bondmate might raise. After all, his mental state during a seizure could affect that of his betrothed.

At Shi’Khar Medical Facility, Spock meets Dr. M’Benga of Earth. He is a tall, dark-skinned Human of slender build who shows little outward emotion except for a brief smile when he greets Spock’s mother with the Terran handshake ritual. It is an accepted display between Humans, but considered inappropriate between Vulcans. To Sarek, he expertly offers the _ta’al_.

Spock is surprised by his shown restraint and straight posture, but soon learns that the physician has been conducting a medical internship at Raal District Medical Center in the past year in order to acquire a xenobiological background in addition to his Terran training. It is rare for Humans to take this kind of position on Vulcan. It must be preceded not only by an excellent academic record, but the mastery of mental strength and emotional restraint far above average for a Human. Dr. M’Benga must be an outstanding Terran to be accepted in a Vulcan medical program.

While his Golic is adequate, the physician prefers Terran Standard for medical conversations. Neither Spock’s parents nor Spock himself object.

Dr. M’Benga calmly hears out both of Spock’s parents as well as Spock own additional explanations. The physician has already familiarized himself with Spock’s medical history and done additional research. After administering further tests of his own, as well as interpreting all data gathered on Spock’s unique condition, he comes to a very different conclusion than his Vulcan colleagues.

“I can’t agree with the current theory that this is a form of Human illness manifesting itself in Spock,” he eventually explains.

They have moved to a small but private office provided to Dr. M’Benga by the administration. Spock respects the doctor for not only talking to his parents, but seeking out Spock’s gaze as well.

“How do you come to this conclusion, Doctor?” Spock can hear that his father is intrigued.

“To be honest, I doubted the idea from the start. Such intense emotional outbursts combined with the physical symptoms are not something we usually see in Humans. Crying fits might be expected in younger children, but Spock is much more mature. The only reasonable explanation would be a severe psychological problem or imbalance. Something like major trauma. As I understand it, there’s no record of Spock having been placed in a traumatic situation.”

“Indeed not,” Sarek agrees.

“Spock’s mind is also Vulcan in nature,” the doctor continues. “His intellectual capacities at this age and his mastering of Vulcan meditation techniques to me make any Human psychological explanation or treatment an unfitting approach.”

Spock cannot help but feel satisfied by this assessment. His father also inclines his head in agreement.

“I’ve reviewed all data available and compared it to several Terran databases as well as those open to me on Vulcan. Especially given the scans made during the so-called seizure, I’ve come to quite a different conclusion. I believe these episodes are linked to Spock’s telepathic abilities.”

“You mean these emotions are somehow transferred to him?” It is Spock’s mother who first reacts to Dr. M’Benga’s surprising proposal. “Maybe intersected from those around him?”

“It’s one possibility,” the physician responds. “I’m of course not completely familiar with Spock’s social environment, but I doubt any healthy Vulcan would transfer emotions of this magnitude. Even you, the only Human regularly close to him, I would rule out as the source of such strong emotions. Your husband would have felt them, too.”

“My wife’s emotional control is sound,” Sarek agrees.

Dr. M’Benga nods. “I’m sorry to say this is all I can really tell you. I’m not familiar enough with Vulcan telepathy or proper treatment to remotely be of much help in this field.”

“You’ve been of great help,” Spock’s mother says. Once more, she is smiling. “It seems we did need a Human perspective after all.”

“I will seek out additional advice for this matter from a Vulcan specialist,” Sarek adds. “I agree with my wife – your assessment has been most helpful. Please accept my gratitude, Doctor.”

When they leave the medical facility, Spock’s mother voices what Spock has also considered: “Whom do you intend to contact now?”

“My choice is the honorable T’Pau. I believe our mistake was aiming to find a solely medical solution for Spock’s illness. What Dr. M’Benga suggests is that his emotional episodes might be rooted in a cause more ancient and less scientifically explored. Something even our well-trained healers are unfamiliar with.”

“You want to take this up with T’Pau?”

Spock has not expected this either. He has met T’Pau only once during a family gathering to exchange the customary words that welcomed Spock into their clan. The matriarch is highly-esteemed even beyond Vulcan and sought out only for the most important questions and traditional ceremonies. Her advanced age must also be taken into consideration when asking for an audience.

His father’s voice is stern when he replies: “Considering all that we know, I believe this to be the only logical solution.”

~*~*~

The Hall of Ancient Thought at Mount Seleya is a place few Vulcans have the honor to visit. It is where the _katra_ of great Vulcans is stored, as well as the very essence of all Vulcan cultural and historical knowledge.

Spock recognizes the importance of this location. It is unusual that T’Pau would choose this place for their meeting, but the matriarch’s decisions are not his to question.

His father has accompanied him to this meeting. His mother, as she possesses no telepathic ability, has not joined them.

T’Pau, wearing her elaborate ceremonial robes befitting her status as matriarch and esteemed elder, awaits them in one of the many chambers adjacent to the Hall. Spock and Sarek are also wearing traditional robes. They exchange the _ta’al_ , with Spock and Sarek also inclining their head as a sign of respect. T’Pau stares at them motionlessly.

“You have come to seek my advice, _pi-maat_ ,” she declares.

“You honor us by receiving us, _pid-kom_ ,” Sarek replies.

“To refuse would have been illogical. You seek help which I am able to offer.”

“You know my son, Spock. It is he who seeks your assistance.”

Spock holds T’Pau’s stern gaze as she considers him. “Step forward, _kan_. I would know your mind.”

It is clear Sarek has informed the elder of what it is they aim to explore. Slowly, as not to stumble over the long ceremonial robes, Spock approaches T’Pau. Her wrinkled hand rises in response. A moment later, her fingers find the psi points in Spock’s face.

Spock is familiar with mind melds, something that he and his father share regularly, as is custom between parent and child. But T’Pau’s presence is different from the familiar touch of his father’s thoughts. Spock can sense her power and wisdom, can feel her take over his mind, seek out even the most inconsequential lines of thought.

For several moments, he seems to float, unaware of his body, his surroundings, his very identity. When it is over, it becomes clear to Spock that – considering the stiffness of his body – the meld must have lasted far longer than mere moments, longer than any meld he has previously experienced.

“You were correct in coming to me with this matter, _pi-maat_ ,” T’Pau declares.

She seems much less affected by the meld than Spock, who is only slowly recovering from the force of her mind.

“What have you found, _pid-kom_?”

“I found Spock’s mind orderly for his age. The bond has not affected his ability to apply logic and regulation to his thinking. His telepathic abilities are sound. In spite of his mother’s heritage, his mind is that of a Vulcan.”

Sarek’s thoughts, unlike Spock’s, do not seem to linger on the last words spoken. Instead he asks: “Of which bond do you speak?”

T’Pau gestures towards Spock. “Your son has been bestowed with a most-revered connection. He is _telsu_.”

“No betrothal has been arranged so far, _pid-kom_. Spock is not yet of the right age.”

“I do not speak of the _koon’ul_. His mind is already linked to another, a bondmate not yet known to him.”

Spock does not understand what T’Pau is referring to. He is not aware of any bond that is formed without the knowledge of the bonded. His father also seems unfamiliar with the explanation given.

“I was unaware such bonds existed,” he states.

“Your lack of knowledge is to be excepted. These bonds are rare, but not unheard of among our people. It is a link forged at birth. The tradition of this bond is ancient. It is powerful and it must be honored. No other betrothed can be chosen for Spock. He is irrevocably linked to his _telsu_.”

“How can this bondmate be found, _pid-kom_?”

“I advise you to study the ancient scrolls. You will find all known information there. I can reveal nothing further to you. _Dif-tor heh smusma, pi-maat.”_

It is unsatisfying, but Sarek accepts T’Pau’s words with the _ta’al_ and a respectful bow. Spock imitates his father, then follows him outside.

“Father,” Spock speaks up, but Sarek raises a hand and Spock falls silent.

“I can offer no additional explanation at this time, only what has been given to us by the honorable T’Pau. I will respond to your questions when I have discovered answers myself.”

This is logical. Still, Spock finds himself yearning for a more satisfying response.

At home, his mother expresses similar thoughts after Sarek’s brief explanation of what has transpired.

“T’Pau mentioned nothing else? Did she link Spock’s episodes to this bond?”

“She did not, but I infer from her explanation that this bond is what has caused the anomalies. She also confirmed what Dr. M’Benga has revealed: Spock’s mental health is sound and he is following the Vulcan way. This is a Vulcan matter, not a Human one.”

Spock’s mother nods, but seems unsatisfied as well.

“I will immediately research all information related to this bond and inform you when I have found a satisfying response,” Sarek adds and leaves for his working space.

“And you, Spock?” asks his mother, turning towards him. “What are your thoughts on this matter?”

“In spite of the honorable T’Pau’s explanation, I do not have enough knowledge to form an educated opinion,” Spock responds. “In this moment, I prefer to draw from the wisdom of Surak: _Kaiidth_.”

“What is, is,” his mother agrees.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the wonderful kholly for betaing this! :)

One would assume that there is no logic in ‘gossip’. The fact that Spock must use a Terran word to name what the Golic language can only paraphrase is proof enough that the concept should be strange to a Vulcan.

‘Gossip’ does not contain valuable knowledge. Instead, sharing it violates the privacy of others. As the personal sphere is very important to Vulcan society, Spock cannot comprehend why his peers continue to make his lack of a betrothed a continuing topic of their conversation.

“I hypothesize that his hybrid nature must be the cause.” Spock knows this voice well. It is Stonn, one of his fellow students, sitting in the row of chairs behind him. “There are numerous examples in nature where hybrid creatures become infertile. It would be illogical to enter into a betrothal under these circumstances.”

“I concede your logic, Stonn.” This voice belongs to another one of Spock’s peers: T’Pring. Spock is not surprised that she is part of this dispensable conversation. She is, after all, Stonn’s very own fiancée. “It is also doubtful that a mental bond would be possible, given his genetics.”

They are sitting in the assembly hall, which is at the center of the vast Shi’Khar schooling grounds. Spock and his peers are awaiting the school examination board. Today, their teachers will announce their final test scores. The outcome of these final examinations will determine which career paths Spock and his peers will be able to pursue. There are many honorable professions to consider, but the majority of Vulcans aim for an admission to the Vulcan Science Academy – an honor given only to those who have truly excelled.

Instead of confining themselves to the dignified silence befitting this special occasion, his peers seem to have decided that their time is better spent discussing Spock.

It is not truly surprising. Spock has always drawn attention on his home planet, and his lack of a betrothed is only one reason of many.

He is, he must admit, a unique being in Vulcan society. Most hybrid offspring reside with their parents elsewhere – on interstellar space stations or far-away colonies, where the mingling of species is far more common. As Spock has been living on Vulcan for the past 17 years of his life, he has been forced to succumb to a variety of unwanted attention that could otherwise have been avoided.

Unusual things are interesting to observe and to analyze. Thus he can certainly understand the basic appeal of discussing his person. Yet, he can find no logic in actions he can only describe as lewd ‘gossiping’.

His fellow students are of course mistaken. Spock is very much fertile. Furthermore, he is in a sense betrothed to a potential mate. The circumstances of his own betrothal are only infinitely more complex.

Before Stonn, T’Pring and any others involved can voice further redundant statements regarding Spock, the anticipated group of teachers appears before them. Spock aims to straighten his posture to perfection as the hall finally falls completely silent.

“Students.” Sevek, head of the examination board, is speaking. “Your final examinations have been evaluated. All of you who have fulfilled their potential are to be commended. In the face of infinite diversity, however, it is only logical that not every student can continue on to the highest academic pursuits our society can offer.”

There is a moment of solemn silence in which Sevek’s words are considered by all.

“You may now come forward to receive your scores.”

Almost in ideal unison, Spock and his peers rise from their seats. They continue on to form orderly lines, each of them approaching the board member responsible for their individual examination.

They each receive a data chip as well as a small IDIC pin – the latter being a universally recognized sign on Vulcan that one has finished their fundamental education and fully embraced Surak’s teachings.

Like his peers, Spock accepts his chip and the pin to his robes. He then exchanges the _ta’al_ with his examiner, and leaves the hall in a dignified fashion. Outside, most of the students have grouped together to compare and evaluate their scores. Spock seeks out an empty bench in the shade away from these gatherings.

To feel nervous about what his data chip contains would be illogical. The examinations are finished, the scores final. All he can do is to accept the outcome of his past actions.

Calmly, Spock straightens the pin on his robes, then reaches for his personal PADD to insert the chip and read his scores.

A sharp breath escapes him as he considers the numbers appearing on the screen. His scores are distinctly high across all fields. A few touches to the screen tell him how they compare to those of his peers. He is gratified to see that he is in the top 1 percentile in every subject.

This makes an admission to the Vulcan Science Academy very likely. His parents will be quite satisfied.

“Spock.”

Spock looks up to meet the gaze of Stonn, once more accompanied by T’Pring as well as four other graduates. He rises from the bench immediately.

“Stonn,” he acknowledges calmly.

Even now, as they have finished their education, his peers seem to seek a confrontation. Spock has not forgotten the day his control had slipped and he had succumbed to violence. It had been a shameful occurrence, and he had not had the ancient bond to blame for this particular failure.

Stonn had been the receiver of that violence. Spock can remember the green blood spilled between them. It has not discouraged Stonn from confronting Spock again and again after this incident, although he has since refrained from openly voicing petty slurs. There are more Vulcan ways to express one’s thoughts.

“Shall we compare scores?” Stonn asks, offering his PADD to Spock.

Spock does not return the gesture. “I see no logic in this particular exchange of information. If you wish to see how your personal score compares to that of your peers, the relevant data is accessible through your data chip.”

“I deduce from your unwillingness that you are dissatisfied with your score.”

“Your assertion has no foundation.”

“You could easily refute it by sharing your score with me.”

Stonn’s associates have formed a circle around Spock. While violence must not be expected from any of them, it is clear they will not let this go without further confrontation. Seeing no reason to provoke a lengthy argument, Spock offers his own PADD and exchanges it with that of Stonn. A quick glance reveals the satisfying truth: Spock’s scores are considerably higher than any of his.

Stonn’s face is controlled as he silently returns Spock’s PADD. Without a word, he turns and leaves. The others follow him, also offering no further comment. They must have expected a different outcome. Illogical, as Spock has always been one of the best students in their age group.

The thought that Spock will most likely not have to endure Stonn’s continuous presence in the future admittedly is rather satisfying.

He chooses to walk back to his home rather than take a shuttle. It is an exercise of approximately 38 standard minutes, but Spock finds merit in it. It is commonly known that exerting the body is also beneficial for an orderly mind.

Choosing a swift pace, he reflects upon Stonn’s earlier claim that Spock is unfit to be a bondmate. None of his peers know the truth, as Spock and his family have not chosen to share it with others. It is true that Spock has not undergone the _koon’ul,_ the traditional ceremony where a mental link is formed between two Vulcan children. After all, Spock is already promised to another.

His situation is unique. It is perhaps not so surprising considering Spock’s identity.

His very birth as a hybrid of two species was already an anomaly. Having been born with an ancient bond rather than being betrothed at age 7 to a mate chosen by his parents appears to fit with this disparity.

At its core, the bond is something very uniquely Vulcan. It has little to do with his Human heritage. According to what Spock and his parents have learned from the ancient scrolls and Vulcan elders, this type of bond is as old as the Vulcan people. One could argue that only a true Vulcan would be born with such a connection.

Yet, Spock finds the situation is rather more complicated.

Ever since the honorable T’Pau informed them of Spock’s unique situation, his parents have sought to find Spock’s _telsu_. More precisely, Spock’s _t’hy’la_ , as the scrolls have named the partakers of this particular connection. But hundreds of requests at medical facilities all over Vulcan have shown no other child with similar signs of such a connection.

Although his mate must be close in age, none of his peers seem to have suffered through the emotional episodes that have accompanied Spock throughout his childhood. Neither has there been a report of a failed _koon’ul_ due to an existing bond not previously discovered.

Yet, his father is convinced that the bondmate will be found in due time. He considers it logical that his _telsu_ must eventually be located among the more than 6 billion individuals on Vulcan before Spock’s first _pon farr_ will commence.

Spock, however, has formed a different opinion.

It is logical to assume that a Vulcan showing similar symptoms would have been easily located through his parents’ many requests. The fact that the search has not been successful might be evidence for something else: Spock’s _t’hy’la_ is not Vulcan.

Given Spock’s unique identity as a hybrid and the unsuccessful search so far, he finds it most likely that his mate might be of Terran origin instead.

His father has not found merit in Spock’s hypothesis. After all, Humans are known to be a psi-null species, considered unable to form any sort of bond without considerable effort. Sarek is of course in the superior position to make a judgement regarding this: Spock understands that his mother and father struggled considerably before making a mutual telepathic connection.

Yet, Spock believes his theory to be true. The scrolls, while describing a bond forged at birth, give no description of the kinds of episodes Spock has suffered in the past. A controlled Vulcan would not continuously transfer the kind of volatile emotions Spock has repeatedly been the receiver of.

A Human, however, might.

Spock has almost reached his home. The grand buildings of the city center have given way to smaller structures: Family homes, some several centuries old, built directly into the red rocks of Vulcan. They offer shade, cooler temperatures and also serve as a reminder of Vulcan’s rich history.

This time, the familiar walk from the city has not ordered Spock’s mind. Rather, he finds himself apprehensive of his future.

His theory of a Human bondmate comes with complications. While a Vulcan mate might eventually attract attention, a Human would not be so conspicuous.

Spock cannot deny the facts: If his theory is correct, it is likely his mate will never be found. The universe is considered infinite. As infinite are the locations in which his _telsu_ might exist in this very moment.

Vulcans are by no means prone to fatalistic visions of the future. Yet, Spock considers it more and more likely that he will die during his first _pon farr._ The search for his mate among all Terrans in the galaxy would need extensive resources, resources that cannot be expected to be wasted on one individual.

Surak has taught them that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Therefore, it is logical that Spock accepts his likely fate and faces the possibility that he might never know his so-called _t’hy’la_.

Approaching the entrance to his home, Spock forces himself to cease this line of thought. It is futile to think any more of this matter, he decides. Too much energy has already been wasted over it.

The only reasonable approach is to continue his education and aim to be a valuable addition to society. He will apply to the Vulcan Science Academy and further his education.

Anything else is illogical.

~*~*~

His parents show great pride over Spock’s achievements. As they have always nurtured Spock’s mind and offered him additional educational opportunities at home, he considers their pride appropriate.

Spock and his parents have finished their communal evening meal and have now come together to discuss Spock’s future.

“It is reasonable to assume an application to the Vulcan Science Academy will be accepted,” Sarek states. As Sarek holds a seat on the Academy admission council, his prediction is based on experience.

“I will submit my scores through the appropriate channels,” Spock replies.

“I’m happy for you, Spock.” His mother has shown more feeling than usual today. Finishing one’s fundamental education can be considered a special occasion on Vulcan. On Earth, it seems to be not only an important but an emotional event as well. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”

“Applying anything less than my full attention and resources to my studies would have been illogical, mother.”

It is Sarek that replies: “Indeed, Spock. Yet, your mother is correct in commending you. Knowing what is required is a feat easily accomplished. Pursuing the path is not. Your educational efforts are praiseworthy. You have accomplished what few of our people succeed in.”

“And you’ll do well in the Academy, too, Spock. I have no doubt about it,” his mother adds. “I cannot tell you how proud I am.” Her voice is full of joy, her smile wide.

In the privacy of their home, Spock can find no fault in it. Her exuberance is the Human way and to be accepted as valid. “You honor me, mother,” he responds.

They soon retire to their individual pursuits. In his room, Spock places the data stick he has received next to his personal computer terminal. He will apply to the Academy tomorrow when his body and mind have been refreshed by meditation and sleep.

Stepping up to his meditation alcove, Spock lights the traditional incense and settles into position on his mat. Closing his eyes, he adapts the required breathing technique until the familiar sense of calm overcomes him.

His focus is turned inward, away from bodily experiences. All he knows now is his mind, his thoughts and the feelings any Vulcan strives to control. Emotions run deep in Vulcans, but Surak has given them a way to stand above them.

As always, Spock allows himself a brief moment to reach out to that spot where the ancient bond rests, the connection to a person not known to him. Since understanding the source of his episodes, Spock has sought to reach for it in the privacy of his own mind.

The bond has been the cause of much pain, confusion and disapproval by his peers. Yet, Spock finds no logic in resenting it. It is part of him, irrevocably so.

In addition, understanding the source of his emotional outbursts has equipped him with superior coping mechanisms. Strong mental shields and a mind ordered daily by meditation has brought Spock from crying and shouting uncontrollably to being able to seclude himself and privately endure the transferred pain in relative silence.

Spock does not know why it is only feelings of despair that he can feel through his bond. There is never an outburst of joy transferred to him. It must be only the most volatile of emotional experiences that connect their minds over what are quite likely lightyears of distance.

Detaching himself from this line of thought, Spock pursues an even deeper trance. His thoughts grow silent.

All he knows is stillness.

Then, all of a sudden, Spock is suddenly, violently thrown out of the achieved peace. An episode, exceedingly painful in its intensity, has overcome him.

Heat engulfs his body, he is shaking. His body slips out of the meditation position on its own and curls into itself on the floor. Breathing harshly, Spock trembles and gasps as waves of fear overcome him.

He has not felt emotions this deep, this strong in years. Already, he feels the control he has gained since the discovery of the bond slipping. He claws into it, throwing up his mental shields to fend off the worst of the emotions.

He succeeds in retaining his consciousness, pressing his face into his meditation mat to muffle most of the pained sounds that escape him. Anything else is beyond him.

Lying on the floor, all Spock does is feel. Utter despair has overcome him. His thoughts are not his own, taken over by emotion.

He is scared and knows not of what. He is grieving and knows not for whom. He is enraged and knows not why.

When the onslaught wanes, Spock is left with an intrinsic and unbearable knowledge that something horrific far beyond his imagination has just occurred.

Still trembling, Spock forces his body into functioning. He rises from the floor and stumbles away from his alcove and out of his room. There is something inside of him, an instinct, a drive, telling him to leave, to run, to seek out his _telsu_. His _t’hy’la_.

A moment later, he collides with his mother.

“Spock!” she exclaims.

The shock of their collision shakes him up. Spock becomes truly, fully aware of his surroundings. He is standing in the hallway and his mother has grasped both of his arms.

“Spock, what is happening?” she asks, peering closely into his face.

“Mother,” is all Spock can reply, his voice hoarse and pained.

“Oh, Spock. Again?” Her face is full of worry. “You’re crying.” She lets go off his arms. But not, as usual, to calm her own thoughts and respect a Vulcan’s need for distance.

Instead, in a moment of raw Humanity, her fingers seek out Spock’s face and brush away the tears Spock has not been aware he has shed. His mind, open and violated by what has just occurred, instantly connects with hers.

Again, he is hit by feelings that are not his own. There is worry and sadness, but there is also love. A warm, all-encompassing love that comes over him in waves.

Before he can draw back and order his mind, Spock feels himself move forward and lean into his mother’s touch. Her hand goes flat on his cheek; her other arm touches his side. She must feel his accelerated heartbeat.

“Oh, Spock.” Her voice breaks as she, too, leans in.

There is silence between them and an intimacy so strong, it cannot compare to the mind melds Spock and Sarek have shared in the past. Although he has always been aware of his mother’s love, feeling it this strongly, this closely is overwhelming. He has never felt an affection of this intensity. Even as a child, his mother has seldom touched him like this.

It is hard to let go, but he eventually succeeds. “Mother,” he repeats, still unable to say anything more.

She smiles at him, her own eyes glistening as she draws back. “I’m sorry. I know you prefer your distance, but I couldn’t help myself. You’re hurting.”

Spock, his mind still overwhelmed, finds that logic has no place here. “Do not apologize,” he replies. “Your touch…” He trails off, unable to describe what has transpired.

His mother nods as if she understands what remains unsaid. Perhaps she does.

“You should seek out your father,” she advices him after clearing her throat. “He’ll help you order your thoughts.”

“Of course.”

For a moment, they simply look at each other. Then Spock turns and walks away, willing down any remaining trembles.

~*~*~

Spock awakes to a headache the next day.

His mind is ordered and calm, but only on the surface. A deeper look would reveal the truth: Emotions, intense feelings, suppressed only by sheer force of will.

Yet, he coerces himself to continue in accordance to his routine. He uses the hygienic facilities, briefly seeks out his parents attending to their own affairs in the parlor, then returns to his own room to sit at his personal computer terminal.

He transfers his test scores from the data chip, accesses the application gateway through the open Vulcan network and submits them through the proper form. No additional information is necessary. Any data on his aptitude is saved within the file submitted.

The next logical step would be to shut down his terminal and pursue a calming and beneficial activity. He could exercise, read or play his lyre. He could mediate further until his headache fades.

Instead Spock finds himself idling, still staring at the screen. His acceptance at the Vulcan Science Academy is likely. He will attend alongside Vulcan’s greatest minds, furthering his education and carrying out research that will advance their society.

And yet…

Spock’s breath hitches as he thinks of the night before, the urgency he felt upon his mate’s transferred emotions. Spock is convinced that whatever has caused this level of despair must have been unspeakably horrific. Were it not for the continuing presence of the bond, Spock would have thought his _telsu_ dead.

The thought is unbearable.

For quite some time Spock has accepted the idea that his mate would most likely remain out of reach. That this unknown Human, living on Earth or a Terran colony, would live their life ignorant of Spock’s very existence. That Spock might die during _pon farr_. And that all of this is of no consequence.

He has told himself that there is nothing he could logically do. _Kaiidth_.

Now, he can find no comfort in logic. He remembers the horrifying pain instead, and he remembers his mother’s love, so intimately shared with him.

Is this not what the bond might offer to him, too? True affection and a union deeper than any other connection? Is staying on Vulcan, further pursuing the Vulcan way and merely enduring the presence of the bond really Spock’s only choice?

Logic dictates this path. Spock knows he should meditate until the emotions clouding his judgment have truly calmed and he has once more found inner balance.

But in this moment, he cannot be rational. In this moment, he desperately seeks a way to find the person who has caused Spock’s confusion. What he wants, what he needs, is at least a chance to find the person that has shaped his life so thoroughly already. A way to leave Vulcan behind to pursue the search on his own.

Opening a connection to the interstellar network provided by the United Federation of Planets, Spock carefully types out his query:

> Application process for Starfleet Academy


	3. Three

 

 

> Mother,
> 
> As already noted in my last messages to you, my health is sound. Be assured that I will inform you if my physical well-being is deteriorating in any significant way.
> 
> I have finished my first week of seminars and lectures at Starfleet Academy. I can now report to you that 13 of the 15 courses required of first-year cadets cover material I have already mastered on Vulcan. Thus, I plan to inform my Academy advisor today of this matter and seek to enroll in more advanced courses.
> 
> While I understand your reasoning, I have as of now no need of what you have named a ‘Vulcan care package’. I have taken all necessary belongings on my journey to Earth and am capable of sustaining myself on what nourishment and equipment Starfleet Academy provides. To ease your concerns, I assure you that I will ask you for help should the need for any supplies or provisions from Vulcan arise.
> 
> As for your inquiry about my experiences on your home planet so far, a short message such as this is hardly suitable for a detailed account of all I have seen and done on Earth. However, I am able to say that life on Vulcan differs greatly from life here. 
> 
> Live long and prosper,
> 
> Your son Spock

After encrypting the private letter as Starfleet protocol dictates, Spock sends off the message, logs off the public subspace communication panel and leaves the Academy science library.

As he walks swiftly across the vast campus grounds, Spock considers his words to his mother.

Earth is indeed very different from Vulcan.

Of course, Spock knew this long before he first set foot on this planet. Yet he finds that he has not been fully prepared for how significantly Humanity’s home world differs from his own.

His mother, although a stranger on Vulcan, had always shown very little discomfort or confusion while residing on her husband’s planet. Calmly, she had accepted the social norms and rules of Vulcan society and only on rare occasions displayed what might be called unusual behavior. Spock cannot remember a single instance in which she had embarrassed herself in front of others or gravely offended a Vulcan with Human peculiarity.

Even in the privacy of their own home, she had hardly insisted on Human traditions. Occasionally, there had been the smell of a Terran meal or a short burst of melodic laughter floating through the house. Apart from such few exceptions, Spock’s mother had adapted more than adequately to the Vulcan ways.

From all this, Spock had falsely concluded that Human and Vulcan culture, while very dissimilar, were still somehow compatible.

After a week spent in the Terran city of San Francisco, Spock is no longer convinced that there is any significant level of congruence between Vulcan and Earth. His mother, in fact, must have sacrificed a significant amount of her Human identity for her new life on Vulcan.

Among the most outstanding differences is the almost constant presence of noise.

On Vulcan, a basic level of silence is preferred by all. It is beneficial for thinking and crucial for meditation. Rarely does a Vulcan raise their voice, and shouting is reserved for alerting people to emergencies, or for those few occasions in which direct communication at significant distance is required.

On Earth, loud music from shops, signals from passing vehicles, and the buzzing of personal communication devices constantly irritate Spock’s ears. Humans often talk with shrill voices, forcing others to overhear their private conversations. Sudden shouts and bouts of laughter have startled Spock on several occasions.

Humans also touch frequently. Logically, Spock knows this is appropriate behavior for Humans. Openly embracing friends, publicly exchanging affections with a lover or rubbing away a stain on a child’s cheek with one’s bare hand is completely acceptable on Earth. Yet, Spock finds it hard to overcome his almost instinctual discomfort at seeing his own culture’s norms so blatantly disregarded everywhere he goes.

It becomes especially difficult when he himself is touched by a stranger. While Humans do seem to own a basic sense of personal space, Spock has already encountered situations in which this invisible sphere is not fully respected. On a crowded street, for example, arms are carelessly brushed against his. A stronger impact is merely acknowledged with a quick word of regret – if at all. And while his mental control is still sound, Spock finds the constant presence of complete strangers at the edge of his thoughts unnerving.

After four experimental excursions into the Terran city, Spock has decided that the campus of Starfleet Academy is easier to endure than the streets of San Francisco.

In work rooms and study groups, most Starfleet cadets adhere at least to a basic level of quietness. The libraries especially are places of peace which Spock has quickly learned to use both for his study time and a brief rest.

The daily interaction with a significant number of different beings also ensures that most members of Starfleet are more considerate of other species. Given Spock’s physiological features, most people recognize him as Vulcan and know enough of his kind to keep a more appropriate amount of distance.

In addition to this, Starfleet Academy has from the start displayed a surprising amount of consideration regarding Spock.

He had not expected any form of special treatment after his decision to attend the Academy was final. After all, Starfleet is a body made up of numerous and vastly different species. It would be impossible to accommodate all of them. Nonetheless, Spock has been the receiver of some adjustments.

Many of them are small changes. For example, Spock has been issued special thermal garments to wear beneath his standard cadet uniform. This has greatly increased his comfort on this often cool and wet planet.

Other changes are more significant. While most first-year cadets are expected to share living quarters with at least one fellow student, the Vulcan need for privacy has been taken into consideration. Thus, Spock has been allotted a room for himself.

Starfleet also entrusts every cadet to an advisor, most of which are chosen from older and more experienced cadets. Spock’s advisor however is First Officer Christopher Pike, a distinguished Starfleet member currently residing on Earth after a longer off-planet posting. Serving as both a member of faculty and a recruiting officer, he has recently been given the task of supervising Spock’s progress.

Pike has been very forthcoming with his time so far. Approaching Pike’s office, Spock trusts that he will aim to find a satisfactory solution for Spock’s less than challenging academic schedule.

The green light at the slide door indicates that the First Officer is in his office and available to visitors. Spock announces himself by waving his Starfleet identification chip in front of the sensor and waits for Pike to open the door from inside.

“Cadet Spock!” Pike greets him from behind his desk.

Having learned the required protocols for Starfleet cadets during his first day at the Academy, Spock straightens in front of the table and salutes.

“Sir.”

Pike acknowledges his salute with a nod, then gestures towards the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat. Just give me a minute.”

Silently, Spock waits as Pike finishes typing on his personal PADD and sets it aside.

“Now, Spock. How can I help you out today?”

“I have finished my first week of classes and attended all of the 15 courses required of first-year cadets, Sir. However, I must report that the majority of content covered by these lectures and seminars has already been part of my education on Vulcan.”

 “Is that so?” Pike replies evenly. Spock appreciates greatly that the First Officer, unlike many other Humans he has met so far, is rather calm of character – undoubtedly a valuable trait for Command branch. “Which classes do you mean?”

“I am referring to 13 of my 15 scheduled courses. Only the seminar ‘Introduction to Transporter Technology’ as well as the lecture on Starfleet History will cover material that I have not previously encountered.”

Pike leans back in his chair, folding his hands in the process. His eyes assess Spock’s frame. “Thirteen?” he finally repeats.

As Spock knows that Pike is not weak of hearing, he takes the meaningless repetition as an odd Human mannerism. “Indeed.”

Again, Pike seems to assess him. Knowing his posture is regulation-perfect, Spock does not move under his scrutiny.

Eventually, Pike leans towards his desk again. “Doesn’t make sense to bore you with stuff you already now,” he states. “It would be a waste of time for everyone involved, but especially for you.”

“Such a waste of resources does indeed seem illogical, Sir,” Spock offers in return, as Pike seems to expect an answer.

A smile appears on the First Officer’s lips. “Well. I’m happy to help you out on this. However, I must admit I’m not sure what an ideal alternative schedule would look like for you.”

“I am willing to provide any assistance or information necessary, Sir.” Spock hesitates, then adds. “If a change of schedule is not possible, I am of course willing to submit the required coursework and will aim not to hinder my fellow classmates in their learning progress.”

“Don’t worry, we definitely won’t have you sit in classes you don’t need. I’ll have to talk to some of my fellow staff and see how we can solve this. My guess is, you probably could take some exams early to get the required credits done now.”

“Of course, Sir.”

A nod of acknowledgment. “How about I inform you as soon as there is a solution?”

“That is satisfactory, Sir.” Rising from the chair, Spock adds: “I appreciate your efforts.”

“I’m here to help.” Pike stands also. “I know I’ve said this before, but Starfleet has every intension of keeping you happy and advancing your career. Vulcans rarely enlist as cadets, as you’re probably aware.”

“I understand that it is uncommon for my people,” Spock acknowledges.

“Everyone thinks you’ll be a big asset, and I agree. To pass on a place at the great Vulcan Science Academy to become a Starfleet cadet at 17 – well. You’ve got the attention of the admiralty already, that’s for sure.”

“I will aim not to disappoint either their or your expectations,” Spock states and salutes. “Good evening, Sir.”

“Enjoy your afternoon, Cadet.”

~*~*~

 

Spock tests out of the 13 courses in the following week with perfect scores. This results in Spock being advanced into the class of second year cadets.

The second-year courses are more demanding and show less overlap with his Vulcan education. While Spock is confident he could easily test out of 4 more early with a few hours of studying, he decides not to.

Rearranging his schedule and exams to advance him has been a significant coordination effort for Pike, he understands. Spock has also missed 3 units in each course due to the changes made and needs to make up the already covered contents.

Therefore, he deems it wise simply not to attend the less interesting lectures and letting his fellow students advance their knowledge on their own pace. This gives him enough time to focus on the more challenging seminars and also his additional tasks.

His early advancement has drawn the attention of several instructors to him. Based on his scores and clear aptitude, Spock has been asked to tutor other cadets in several science courses. He now also assists in the advanced Vulcan language courses for the communication tracks.

His schedule is now busier than that of most cadets at Starfleet. As Spock requires less rest than they do and does not attend any of the social gatherings commonly referred to as ‘parties’, he is confident that this will not be a problem.

First Officer Pike does not agree with Spock’s assessment, however.

“There is such a thing as overdoing it, Spock,” Pike tells him during their next meeting. “I’m glad you’ve been able to attend more demanding courses and you’re certainly an invaluable asset to your instructors. But up to fourteen hours of classes and work, six days a week? You’re going to run yourself into the ground.”

Spock needs a second to decipher the colloquialism. “It is not a burden, Sir. Vulcans are used to attending to multiple tasks and dividing their energy, time and resources in such a way that none of those tasks will suffer.”

“Fine. But what about free time? Surely, Vulcans have hobbies? You know, recreational activities. What do you do to relax, Spock?”

“Vulcans seek calm in daily meditation.”

Spock watches Pike rub a hand over his face, possibly to hide the expression on it. “I meant for fun– um, enjoyment? Activities with other people. Certainly, you would like to find some common ground with your fellow cadets.”

Spock has in fact found very little common ground with his classmates during the brief conversations they have shared. Their interests and lives seem to differ too greatly. However, Spock must not raise more concerns with Pike. So, he responds diplomatically: “Many Vulcans prefer solitary activities.”

“Like what?”

“I play the Vulcan lyre,” Spock offers, uncertain which answer might appease Pike’s unnecessary concerns. “I also aim to improve my skill at chess whenever possible.”

“Chess!” Spock is startled by Pike’s uncharacteristic shout. “Perfect, there we go. Join the chess club, then.”

Spock hesitates before asking: “Is that an order, Sir?”

“An order? Of course no—“ Pike stops, clearing his throat. “Actually, yes. It _is_ an order. I’m making it a mandatory requirement for you to graduate.”

Spock cannot find any logic in this order. What critical skills could a chess club provide that make it an obligation? But Starfleet is built on a chain of command, which a cadet certainly is not to question. “Then I shall join the club. Is there any information as to where or when this club meets?”

“Look it up on the network. I think it’s a couple of nights a week. You might have to reschedule some of your tutoring, but I’m sure you’re more than capable of doing that.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Nodding, Pike gestures to his office door. “You’re dismissed.”

Spock has no choice but to leave and seek out information on the now mandatory meetings of the Starfleet Academy chess club. Why First Officer Pike believes adding an additional meeting to his schedule could lessen the burden of work, will likely remain a mystery.

 

~*~*~

 

> Mother,
> 
> As always, I assure you that both my mental and physical state are adequate. To ease any further concerns: Tomorrow, a mandatory appointment with a Starfleet physician is scheduled in order to get a full medical appraisal. I understand that this should have occurred directly after my admission to the Academy, but was postponed due to a lack of doctors adequately trained to attend to my Vulcan physique. I shall inform you should this medical appraisal result in any relevant diagnosis that would contradict my initial statement.
> 
> In reply to your query about ‘any news’, I can inform you that in addition to the already mentioned tasks as a tutor and student lecturer in my last message, I have now also been asked by my supervisor to engage in a social and recreational activity. This has resulted in me joining the Academy chess club.
> 
> As I expected, most players who are part of this club would not be considered remotely advanced players on Vulcan. Terrans also use a vastly different ranking system which easily places me at the very top as a so-called ‘Grandmaster’, although I know from practical experience that there exist many more advanced players than myself on Vulcan alone. I do not, however, consider it redundant to attend as many of the club members seem to enjoy the challenge of playing against me and have profited from it strategically. It would be illogical to spoil an opportunity for others to learn and improve their skill.
> 
> I have nothing further to tell that could reasonably be considered ‘any news’.
> 
> Live long and prosper,
> 
> Your son Spock

~*~*~

 

Spock is surprised to recognize the name displayed next to the examination room at the Starfleet Academy medical facilities: _Dr. M’Benga, Medical Officer_. It is unlikely that there is another Terran doctor by the same name whose knowledge would qualify them to be Spock’s primary physician on Earth.

Spock remembers the man well. After all, it had been Dr. M’Benga whose competent examination had ultimately lead to the discovery of Spock’s dormant bond.

As Spock enters the room for his appointment, the doctor present looks up from the screen he had previously been studying. While Dr. M’Benga certainly matured in the past decade, the man’s focused look and calm demeanor have not changed over time. It is indeed the same man.

“Lieutenant commander,” Spock salutes with a glance for the stripes on the doctor’s uniform.

“Cadet Spock.” The doctor returns the salute with practiced ease, his eyes running up and down Spock’s frame in a quick assessment. “I saw your name on my roster last night and was very surprised. I can honestly say I didn’t expect to see you again under these circumstances.”

“It was not a likely scenario,” Spock agrees readily. “You joined Starfleet after your residency on Vulcan?”

“Yes, I’d always planned on it. With a xenobiological background, this is the place to be. Please sit down.” The doctor gestures towards one of two biobeds in the room. “I’ll pull up your file right now.”

Spock follows his orders and sinks down on the biobed. Immediately, the screens attached to it start up and begin calculating his weight, height and other basic medical data.

“Patient species: unknown,” one of the screens announces promptly to the room.

“Not surprising,” the doctor comments before continuing more loudly. “Computer, add preliminary species identification to register: Vulcan-Human hybrid.”

“Information received. Patient species updated to: hybrid, Vulcan and Human.”

Spock waits quietly as the doctor accesses Spock’s file from the database and reads over it. “Well, there’s not much here at all,” M’Benga finally concludes.

“I understand Shi’Khar Medical Facility was not willing to provide any sensitive data to Starfleet that could infringe on the Vulcan need of privacy.”

M’Benga nods. During his residency on Vulcan, he undoubtedly became familiar with this problem. “I’ll contact some former colleagues on Vulcan to see if we can figure this out. Maybe if we encrypted the file and limited access to but a few medical officers already familiar with Vulcans– we’ll see. For now, we’ll take what information Starfleet tech can provide.”

M’Benga has Spock lay down and starts a line of diagnostics, assessing Spock’s general fitness, including mobility, eyesight, hearing, and immune response to common pathogens.

“As far as I can tell, you are perfectly healthy,” M’Benga finally concludes. “Some of these readings – well. Your unique genetic make-up seems to confuse some of our sensors.”

“I understand my Vulcan healers encountered similar difficulties,” Spock replies as he leaves the biobed to sit on an offered chair.

M’Benga types some additional information into his work station, then once more turns towards Spock. His face is as calm as before, but Spock can tell from his changing posture that the next line of questions might be sensitive.

“I know this might be a delicate topic for you, but as your physician – and given my previous knowledge on this matter – I have to ask: What information do you have on the seizures that troubled you as a child?”

Spock stiffens. It is indeed a very private topic. “An explanation has been found.”

“A medical explanation?”

“No. It is a private matter.“

M’Benga must know enough of Vulcans to realize that Spock is unwilling to give more information, but he continues: “A private matter that could have consequences for your ability to function as a member of Starfleet?”

Spock hesitates. He has so far not suffered an episode on Earth. There is some risk that he could suffer one during a vital experiment or an important lecture. However, he has managed to control his response to them much better than during his childhood. Starfleet would also not be able to provide him with anything to further lessen the discomfort.

Dishonesty is not the Vulcan way. However, Spock can find no logic in divulging this private matter as long as it does not severely affect his standing as active Starfleet personnel. He will not lie. He will retain information he finds to be irrelevant at this point of time.

“My performance will not suffer.”

“Very well,” the doctor replies. “I’m clearing you for full Starfleet service.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Spock stands and salutes, and the doctor mirrors it.

“Keep an eye on your schedule for your next routine check-up.”

“I will. Good day, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Oh, and Spock?” Spock stops to look back. “I’m a bit late, but: Welcome to Starfleet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After nearly a year of silence, this story is back! 
> 
> As always, thanks to the wonderful kholly for betaing and being willing to read over my stuff even almost a year after the last chapter. :D


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to the wonderful kholly for beating this! :)
> 
> Just a reminder to everyone that this is a work in progress and I've become a terribly slow writer in the past two years... Hope you enjoy anyway! ;)

In the aftermath of his first seizure on Earth, Spock’s initial assessment that their occurrence will be mostly unproblematic is proven not quite accurate.

The mental assault itself is no greater than it was on Vulcan and occurs in the privacy of Spock’s dorm room, far away from the prying eyes of strangers. Just like on Vulcan, Spock’s mental control is sound enough. He is able to wait out the wave of emotions until the bond settles into familiar silence and deep breaths are possible once more.

Afterwards however, there is no Sarek to ease his mind and soothe the ragged edges left behind by the invading force. Family bonds are the most natural and vital tools to ensure a Vulcan’s mental health. To be separated from this healing connection is a difficult feat even for those Vulcans who do not have a volatile ancient bond in place.

The headache is the least important consequence. Although this particular pain is immune to common medical remedies, it is endurable and does not affect Spock’s academic performance in any significant way.

Less endurable is the emotional imbalance Spock feels for the following days. It is only due to a sharp increase in meditation and avoidance of any closer contact with other individuals that Spock can perform his daily duties without any incidence.

However, it quickly becomes clear that even a psi-null species like Humans has a certain prowess in deciphering another person’s general mental state.

“What’s his problem today?” Spock overhears two cadets after he has dismissed his Golic tutorial group. “I mean, he’s always been a bit rigid, but today he was _mean_.” “Yeah, did you see DeSalle’s face? He was close to tears after that comment about his accent…”

It takes almost a full week for Spock to regain full control of his mental state and function adequately once more. He must clearly find a better coping mechanism now that the support of the family bond is missing.

As it turns out, the problem rectifies itself in the following months, but not in the way Spock would have expected.

He has suffered through four more seizures, none of which have occurred in public, when his first year at the Academy is coming to an end. He is scheduled for his end-of-semester counseling session with First Officer Pike which means he has to leave his science tutorial group early. As they are all busy studying for their final examinations, they can certainly use the extra time to revise.

He arrives at Pike’s office precisely at 1600. The slide door, usually closed, is wide open. Spock can see the First Officer inside, staring at the screen of his work station. Spock can tell by the familiar voice from the speakers that he is watching the Starfleet news broadcast. Spock knows Pike well enough by now to be able to decipher the look on his superior’s face: a mix of concern, shock, and anger.

Unwilling to wait outside and inadvertently pry on this emotionally vulnerable moment, Spock makes his presence known.

“Spock,” Pike says, only looking up briefly before turning his attention back to the screen. His voice sounds uncharacteristically weak. “Sorry, come on in. You must see this… just terrible… a tragedy.”

Spock follows his invitation and enters the door, waving in front of the sensor to close it and give them both privacy. He then steps around the table he usually sees only from the front, and comes to stand next to the First Officer.

A banner runs through the bottom of the broadcast, simply stating the location of the events which are being reported on: _Tarsus IV, Human colony_.

> “… starship USS Exeter was hailed by what has turned out to be a make-shift emergency beacon, crudely constructed by a group of survivors. Over 4,000 people are presumed dead. Some of the first interviews conducted with the remaining colonists point to mass-murder, not starvation due to the fungal infection of their crops. The whereabouts of the former leader of the colony, Governor Kodos, remain unclear …”

With a shaking hand, First Officer Pike turns off the broadcast with a few touches to the screen until it displays nothing but the Starfleet insignia. “Just terrible,” he repeats his earlier sentiment.

Although Spock has not heard the entire broadcast, he can deduce enough from what he has gathered to agree: “Indeed.” He turns to retreat from the First Officer’s side to sit in his usual seat in front of him.

They go through the necessary questions that are required during the counseling session. It is clear Pike’s mind is not fully focused after having received the news of the colony. Perhaps he knew somebody who resided on the planet, or his Human mind in general reacts strongly when he becomes aware of such tragedy. Spock, too, is somewhat stunned by the news of the colony’s plight, but he is not emotionally compromised by it. He has no connection to the people or place involved.

As Spock finds most of the required questions to be illogical, the First Officer’s distraction actually is welcome. The session turns out quite short and Spock is dismissed only 18 Standard minutes later.

On his way to the student dormitories, Spock overhears several agitated conversations from other cadets. The news of the events of Tarsus IV seem to have spread quickly across the campus. “… and they even killed the children!” “… that the fungus wasn’t native to the planet, maybe they brought it in with the seeds…” “… called my mother immediately because I thought my cousin was there, but his colony is called Talos, not Tarsus…”

In his room, Spock contemplates reading up on the tragedy himself. As a Starfleet ship is directly involved in the investigation, it is relevant knowledge. Information is still coming in as the event is investigated, though. It seems logical to wait until tomorrow when more definite answers are available.

Satisfied with his decision, Spock sits and starts to revise some material for his own final examinations.

~*~*~

The next thing he can remember is waking up on a biobed at the Starfleet Academy Medical Center.

He feels – nothing. Spock blinks, swallows, then quickly sits up. He feels strangely numb, blind and deaf even, although he is clearly nothing of the sort. He can see the white surroundings of a hospital room, can hear the familiar sounds of the biobed, can feel its artificial surface against his skin. Still, the world around him seems flat, sterile, like he cannot fully grasp it.

Is this a simulation of some kind?

The biobed suddenly beeps loudly above him, mirroring his accelerating heartbeat and the oncoming nausea. Spock swallows again, fighting his body’s symptoms. He understands that his body must be experiencing a kind of instinctual panic mode, but for some reason his mind does not mirror it. He takes deep breaths and his stomach settles down.

What is happening to him? Why is he here?

But before Spock can get up and examine his surroundings, the door to the room is opened and in comes a familiar man – Dr. M’Benga.

At least he looks familiar. But he is also different. Just like the room, he appears flat. Not only flat, but almost fake. He seems like a bad copy of the doctor he knows. Spock blinks rapidly, trying to shake off the strange sensation, trying to _feel_.

“Spock,” the doctor says, skipping any Starfleet formality. There’s a strange edge to his voice Spock cannot decipher. “Please stay put.”

Unsure of the situation, Spock deems it wise to follow the instructions. His heartbeat is slowing down again, the biobed announces with its beeping, but Spock can still tell it is quicker than usual.

Has he fallen ill? Is this why everything seems so bizarre?

“Listen to me, Spock,” M’Benga continues. His voice is calm, but his face is wrinkled in certain areas. Spock thinks he should be able to understand this expression, but for some reason he cannot do so. Maybe he is indeed part of a simulation, a badly constructed one. “You need to remain calm.”

“I am calm,” Spock responds. Because he is. He believes he is. For some reason, he cannot feel whether he is calm. Perhaps he is not?

“Okay,” M’Benga says. Again, such a strange tone of voice. What does it mean? Spock thought he understood Humans better by now. “Listen. I have given you some medication. Psi-blockers, to be exact. I’m sure it must be very confusing for you.”

“I am not confused,” Spock replies honestly. Because he is not. He is not much of anything. He just is. _What is is. Kadiith_. The Surakian proverb echoes through his hollow mind. And it is hollow, isn’t it? Because Dr. M’Benga has made it so. Has blocked his psychic abilities.

“You’re experiencing the bare minimum of psi-abilities still tolerable for a Vulcan,” M’Benga continues his explanation. “I know it must feel like a violation, but I had no choice. I’m sorry.”

Logically, Spock thinks, he should indeed feel violated. He understands that what the doctor has done could be labeled assault under different circumstances. He has cut off Spock’s connection to the world. This is why everything feels flat. It is inherent to his identity to be connected and now he is not. But whatever M’Benga has given him, it makes it impossible to have any sort of sentiment about his current situation.

“I am sure it was necessary,” Spock responds therefore. “How long will this effect last?”

“A few more hours, I believe. Honestly, it is hard to say, given your hybrid make-up.” M’Benga comes closer, looks at the readings of the biobed. “If you feel up to it, I can explain.”

“Please do.”

“A fellow student found you in your room, unconscious. You didn’t show up to a scheduled tutoring session, so one of the cadets went to find you. Luckily, you hadn’t locked your door. When you were brought here, your readings were… well.” A pause. “Alarming, to say the least. Your mind, it was… well.” Another pause. Spock notes that the usually very eloquent doctor is having difficulties expressing himself. “When we finally managed to wake you up, you screamed and you also became violent. I don’t think I have ever seen a Vulcan behave like this. So we put you back to sleep. But your readings… Spock, it looked like something was getting damaged. So I decided to give you the blockers. I’m sorry.”

“From what you have told me, I conclude that it was necessary.”

“Yes, but…” M’Benga looks at him with wide eyes. And Spock understands it. Giving psi-blockers to a species like Vulcans is a severe transgression. He is sure there is little precedence, as any severe mental problem would have been handled quite differently on Vulcan. A mind-meld with a healer or a family member might have been the more natural, less invasive solution. Having been trained on Vulcan by Vulcans, there is probably nobody on Earth who understands this better than M’Benga.

But there is also nobody on Earth able or qualified to act as a Vulcan mind healer or a family member. Therefore, logically, M’Benga made the right choice. Preventing long-term damage is a just cause.

“How long should I remain here?” Spock asks.

“Until the medication is out of your system, at least,” the doctor responds. “Do you have any idea what might have caused this? Is there something you didn’t tell me about your mental state?”

Spock knows that he was unwilling to disclose this before, but it does not seem logical now. “My mind is connected to another,” he answers.

“Your mind… you mean a bond? Like a family bond?”

“Not like a family bond, no,” Spock explains. “Something ancient, something even Vulcans do not fully understand. A bond to a person unknown to me.”

M’Benga shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I do not understand it well, either,” Spock responds. “It is not common, even among Vulcans. It is similar to the bond made during a betrothal, but it was not consciously put there. It just – is.”

“And you can feel this person in your mind?”

“I can usually sense the presence of the bond,” Spock agrees. As he speaks of it, he tries to reach into his mind to find it. But he cannot reach anything. His mind is numb and hollow. Psi-blockers. “There is also reason to assume that this person might be Human. Sometimes their emotions are transferred to me. Strong, volatile emotions. This is what causes my so-called seizures.”

“I understand,” M’Benga says. Spock does not think he does understand, but neither does he fully understand it himself.

His body seems to be tired now. His arms and legs are heavy. He follows his body’s wishes and lies down.  “I must rest,” he informs the doctor faintly.

“Of course. I will check on you every 30 minutes.”

Spock’s muted mind slowly fades away.

~*~*~

The pain is bearable.

Spock calmly accepts the hyposprays Doctor M’Benga administers and lets him take readings with different instruments. It gives him time to reflect on what happened.

When he woke up, his mind was connected to the world once more, the psi-blocker’s effects having disappeared overnight. He feels raw and ragged and strained and he has the worst headache he has ever experienced, but his mind is sound.

Except for the gaping hole that was once the bond. The first thing Spock searched for upon awakening and feeling lucid was that familiar connection. But he could not find it.

Spock has already found a likely explanation: the person bonded to him has died and the assumption that Spock might die or go mad without the bond was wrong. Little is understood about the ancient connection. It should not be surprising that they had come to a wrong conclusion, especially given Spock’s specific circumstances.

As he has told M’Benga about the bond, Spock feels it is necessary to inform him about this new development as well.

“I grieve with thee,” the doctor replies solemnly, in flawless Golic.

Spock accepts the ancient words with a stiff nod. Although he has never met his _telsu_ , and now never will, he had known them in some way. Had been connected to them and had been aware of their most volatile emotions. It is acceptable to acknowledge the loss.

“It definitely explains your blackout,” M’Benga continues after a respectful pause. “Losing a bond like that – it takes a toll on you.”

Spock silently agrees. Even on Vulcan, mental instability after such a severe loss is considered normal and not shameful.

“I know this is a delicate topic,” the doctor says. “But I believe you should inform somebody on Vulcan. You will need another – when the time comes.”

M’Benga knows their culture and does not mention anything explicitly. Spock understands his vague words well enough.

“I will make arrangements,” Spock replies, cutting off any further conversation about this matter.

“Well, your readings look better and you appear stable. You may go, but you’re on medical leave until the end of the week and you have to check in with me in three days. Earlier, if something – anything – seems off. You can make-up any exams you missed, I’m sure.” Spock is dismissed with four hyposprays he can administer himself at home.

He returns to his dorm alone. The PADDs he had studied before the incident lie strewn on the floor – undoubtedly a result of his fainting and the subsequent events. He gathers them, places them neatly on the table. Stares at them.

Spock breathes shakily. He knows his feelings of unrest and confusion are to be expected in the face of what has happened. It is normal to be shaken by the loss of a bond, even one that has never been fulfilled. Meditation will ease his continuing pain, will restore order to his violated mind.

He unrolls his meditation mat on the floor, settles into the familiar position.

For some time, Spock simply sits and breathes. Somehow, he is unwilling to explore his mind now that something so familiar, so vital has been taken from him. He has grown up with the bond in place. And although it has made him suffer greatly through his life, he had accepted it as part of his identity. Had even cast logic aside for a moment and left Vulcan to pursue this connection.

It feels – unnatural, not having it. Spock’s hands curl into tight fists and he finds he must force himself to relax. _In accepting the inevitable, one finds peace,_ Spock recites silently. Yet, he does not find peace in that moment.

Unable to overcome his irrational hesitation, Spock finally decides to write to his father. They have not talked since his rejection of his place at the Vulcan Science Academy, but this is a family matter. As head of their household, he needs to know what has occurred. Arrangements will have to be made. His father will have to inform T’Pau as well.

> Sa-mekh.
> 
> As is my duty, I write to inform you that the bond that was present in my mind has been severed. I was temporarily compromised by its loss, but my mind remains functional.
> 
> I have concluded that my potential mate has perished and I am now once more unbonded.
> 
> Live long and prosper,
> 
> Spock


End file.
